


Aftermath

by Blowalullaby



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Domestic, Family Bonding, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-06-02 10:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19439803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blowalullaby/pseuds/Blowalullaby
Summary: The students from the E-class had honorably fulfilled their mission. After the graduation ceremony, the students reunite a last time to wish everybody good luck for the rest of their cursus.Nagisa comes home, to his newly reformed family, and feel undeserving of such apparent perfection.Because no matter what his mind is telling him, no matter how necessary it was, nobody knows what it feels like, to kill someone you loved by your own hands.





	1. The reflection that isn't me.

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Ricochets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19410703) by [Blowalullaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blowalullaby/pseuds/Blowalullaby). 



> This story takes place right after the graduation ceremony, in the last episode. To avoid any spoil, I recommend that you know what is happening in the original story until the end.  
> I obviously don't own the characters or the original work, belonging to Yusei Matsui.  
> Have a nice read !

Nagisa's footsteps were silent against the apartment’s floor. Years of fear and checking the waving moods of his mother had left their marks on him, that the training he received from the E-class only strengthened. Nagisa always had talent to be invisible. It was late, but his parents didn’t seem too worried about it. They probably were careful not to create any useless fight so early in their new reconciliation. He had told them anyway, that he wouldn’t be home for diner.

Nakamura had made a proposition to reunite one last time, before everyone starts high school. As usual, she and Karma teased him a little, Kayano laughed kindly, and Terasaka and his group were making bets while Itona sent their way a little humorous venom through his deadly punchlines. It had almost been a night as it should have been, except for this feeling lingering in the air, that everybody was ignoring, but that proved that non, this evening wasn’t like the others.

Mr. Koro was dead, and after tonight their secret would be burdened individually, alone. Nagisa didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to leave the E-class. Because as long as they were together, for the last time, on top of their hill, they could pretend that everything hadn’t changed. That the sun wouldn’t rise tomorrow morning, and that there wasn’t any need for them to separate their ways. Unfortunately, all the training in the world wouldn’t be enough to stop time.

Nagisa turned on the light in his room, careful not to let the light filter through the cracks of the door, so that his parents wouldn't know he was now there. He didn’t want to face them right now. For years, Nagisa had hoped that everything would be fixed between them, that his father would come back home and that his mother would learn to give them a little more space. Now that it was the case, Nagisa didn’t feel strong enoigh to stand beside them. It wasn’t because of Koro-sensei, whom they now knew the existence of. It wasn’t their fault either, if there was now a hole gaping between him and them. It wasn’t that Agisa didn’t want to join them. He simply didn’t feel like he had the right to.

A few weeks ago, to be Koro-sensei’s assassin would have been the greatest accomplishment. A source of pride. An unachievable goal, that we surprised ourselves dreaming about, with the comfort to think that it would never come true. Yesterday, to kill Koro-sensei became a necessity, the ultimate gift of the students to the teacher that changed their lives forever. If it hadn’t been them that gave the final blow, Shiro or the government would have done it.

Nagisa was perfectly aware of that, he knew he only did what he had to do, but still, in the end it was _his_ knife that had seeked into Koro-sensei’s heart, changing the yellow octopus in particles of ethereal lights. It was only yesterday, yet Nagisa knew he will remember it’s sensation for the rest of his life. The feeling of the knife’s handle in his hand, the shallow resistance of the skin underneath the blade, the pain from that last smile offered in the slow inclination of his goodbye. Never an assassination could have seemed so soft.

But no matter what, the pain from that sincerely grateful and sorry smile had left in him a burning scar, barely soothed.

Without paying attention, Nagisa caught a glimpse of his reflection in his room’s window. He felt the urge to throw up. That frail body, those soft features, they were just like the assassination he just comitted. Made of a deadly innocence. He wanted to tear this body apart, give away that mask of inoffensivity and expose to the world his bloodlust, the violence hurling inside of him and that he was forced to always shush.

Mr. Koro had asked him one day to whom he wanted to offer his assassins services. At that time already, it was the question that made him change his mind. Being an assassin meant being the puppet, the hidden hands acting in the behalf of another. He would have been just what he was with his mother, the tool of a dream that wasn’t his, and on which he didn’t have any power. And therefore, sometimes he would have had to obey the orders of some bastards, and to accomplish a work in which he didn’t find any justice. Because Nagisa’s bloodlust resided in justice. He was thirsty of justice, and that was how he wanted to use his gift.

Mr.Koro didn’t deserve to die.

It was that obsession that was killing him. There was no other solution, and nobody could have said anything about what he had done. But when he killed Mr Koro, hadn’t he been without wanting it the tool of their ennemies, accomplishing for them a goal he disagreed with ? Hadn’t he been despite himself what he refused himself to be, just like his mother’s daughter that he hated to be ? Each moment, each meaningful moment he made, had he really been able to chose ?

Did he had any power in it ?

His gaze broke away from the window as his eyes stung from unshed tears. Nagisa knew all too well what he was hating in this reflection that was facing him. For a long time, he had seen in his dresser’s mirror the reflection of a girl he didn’t want to be. Now, he was contemplating the assassin he had suffered to be, hiding in its shadow the saver he had failed to be, despite all of his efforts.

Nagisa shook his head. The shadows were taking too much place inside of his head.

He had to find a way to reveal them to the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a translation of my french fic. Since English is not my motherlanguage, I would love to hear your correction to better myself, if you want to give some. Any feedback is welcomed anyway !  
> The following chapters will probably be as short, maybe a little longer, and will be evolving around the reconstruction of Nagisa's family.  
> Thanks to whoever took the time to read this, I hope you liked it !


	2. The Father

  
Ever since when he was a kid, Nagisa had seen himself as a piece gathering two opposite facets. Both girl and boy, harmless yet dangerous, weak and strong. Even his name, Nagisa, referred to that space in-between the earth and the sea, called the tide. He was everything and its contrary, and in this time of doubts, it was hurtful. Who was he really, in that mess that contradicted everything and didn’t let any space to think ?  
A little further on the couch, his father was watching worriedly the mute boy barely eating his breakfast, even though he’d been sitting for a good half an hour.  
The father felt powerless like he had never been before. He was never able to impose himself. He didn’t managed to against his wife. Or when he subtly said that treating Nagisa as someone he wasn’t was harmful to him. He has seen from afar the marks the possessiveness of his wife let on his son, and could only offer back a sincere but mute and distant comfort.  
He got closer to the breakfast table and sit across his son, who was still contemplating his bowl full of cereals through the long blue locks covering a good part of his face. As he didn’t seem to remark the other’s presence, his father started gently a talk : « How was it, yesterday ? »  
Nagisa jumped slightly, startled, as if he’d just woken up. He replaced his morning locks behind his ear to clear his vision, and set on his father fathomless eyes. That wasn’t a good sign. The Nagisa he knew was filled with vivacity and kindness, whose tender and beyond his age wiseness could reflect in the deep oh his stare.  
When had Nagisa lost this sparkle wavering in his eyes ?  
« What do you mean, yesterday ?  
_You went to a party, yesterday. With your friends from the E-class. Did it go along well, did you have fun ?  
_Oh, that… Yes, it was very nice. Some kind of sad obviously, since we won’t be all together next year. But it was a beautiful evening. »  
A polite response coming from a teenager reassuring his parents, yet letting him know that he wouldn’t say anything more.  
To end the uneasiness that started to settle in the air, Nagisa took a spoonful of cereals while avoiding his father’s eyes, that kept staring at him intently. Eventually he asked : « Do I have something on my face ?  
_No, not at all. I was just thinking that I was glad to have you both against, you and your mother. It feels good to be back home. »  
Nagisa’s features softened, and finally the father could catch a glimpse of the Nagisa he knew.  
« I’m happy too that you’re back. I missed you a lot you know ?  
_I missed you too. Tell me, are you sure you’re okay ? You seem to be gone, somehow.  
_I’m good, don’t worry. It’s just that, all that thing with the E-class, everybody talks about it. It’s tiring. »  
Nagisa got up and took his bowl with him to end the discussion. The father didn’t dare to insist.

The week passed by, and Nagisa shut himself to the world more andmore, prey of a deep questioning to which he didn’t seem to find an answer. He stayed indoors all the time, which his father could understand : because of the recent happenings, some relentless journalists were hunting around, particularly at the legal limit between them and the houses of the students. Many times he found his son curling on himself on his bed or the couch, eyes empty. He wasn’t even tying his hair up anymore, letting them falling freely on his face back and shoulders, something he hated most of the time.  
Hiromi had noticed too the change in her son’s behaviour, but she had never really been able to communicate with him. To bebfair, she didn’t really know him. Her and her husband were admiring Nagisa’s maturity, forgetting it was partly due to their way of imposing things to him, or their cowardice. He couldn’t share his problems with his parents. They both knew that were missing something in their son’s education, and they were afraid they would never have the time to fill the holes in there.

Sometimes, the father thought that he didn’t return at the right time. To rebuild a relationship with the woman he most was already a hard task in itself. And he hadn’t thought a second that such dramatic events would happen so soon in Nagisa’s life. If they had announced their reconciliation to their son so soon after it happened, it was because they were hoping it would balance the loss he’d just experienced. Now that he was thinking about it, that succession of brutal changing weren’t of any help. It was too late to take them back though.  
There were days where he was terribly afraid that he would fail again in that relationship, and would let Nagisa sink alone again.  
Hiromi too was making efforts, but he knew it was difficult. Hiromi had always been anxiety-provoking, and her problem was more than probably pathological even though she refused to admit it. Some diners were hard, he could observe the tension in her muscles. The gloomy and electric atmosphere he fled before. He was scared to see her explode, and roar like a storm on the mute teenager facing them, without realising that he was there. Hiromi managed to control herself for now, but because he lived it , he knew that was lingering the urge to shake her son until whatever his problem was just got out of him.  
He couldn’t blame Nagisa if he was unable to express openly what he was feeling.

There were also days where without preamble, Nagisa would slide beside him on the kitchen or the living room, and hugged him. Nagisa always grew closer to him when Hiromi wasn’t here, as if he feared another crisis if he showed himself bonding with his father, like she used to before. It was very strange, for the father. Even if Nagisa couldn’t be properly called a big boy, he had changed a lot since when his father left the house. He could catch from afar and a few brief tomes his evolution, always too fast for an absent parent, who had suddenly a violent idea of the time spent without seeing their child.  
So yeah, it was strange to have your fourteen year-old son being so vulnerable, when he wasn’t exactly the kid he had once been. In those moments, the father would gently caress his son’s back, and let a moment of blank to give the opportunity to talk, and when nothing was coming, he asked what was wrong.  
But inevitably, Nagisa smiled and said that everything was alright, before freeing himself from the comforting hold of his father.

One evening, as Hiromi had to stay later than usual at her job, he pronounced the words that closed the distance separating them. « That Mr. Koro, what does he represent exactly, to you ? » Nagisa, who wasn’t known to cry a lot, seemed to break. « Mr. Koro… You said it yourself, dad. He was a good person, the best teacher ever. He’s not the monster the media’s are describing. He shouldn’t have died. It’s unfair. »  
Nagisa then gave himself the duty to do the closest to real portrait of the teacher that had changed so many things in their lives. His father didn’t understand everything, and Nagisa was gently telling him there were things he couldn’t tell. But Nagisa was unable to explain the end, and the feeling of guilt powerlessness gnawing at him. How his father could have been able to understand since he hadn’t known Koro-sensei ? Since he hadn’t been with him in the E-class ? Since he didn’t even have the time to see his son’s evolution throughout the year, when their teacher had been giving them the weapons to prepare the future ?  
Nagisa’s flow of words came to an end the more he realized that his father could never understand. They stayed face to face in the silence. The father was kind of sceptical. He had a hard time believing all the extraordinary things Nagisa was teeming him. But thanks to the spark that came back to life in his eyes, he suddenly had an idea of what it had felt for his son, when his teacher died. The silence back, the story unfinished, he asked : « According to what you said about Mr.Koro, I’m sure he prepared you throughout this year. He surely had given you the weapons for his mourning. It wasn’t aimless, you now, when he came to me before your graduation. Your mother and I are here for you, now. And we will stand by your side as long as you need us to. »  
Nagisa had a bitter laugh that didn’t suit him at all.  
« You know fully well that _certain_ conditions are imposed to me for a long time already. »  
That was true.  
« Give us some time, Nagisa. We had just started it all again. Everything happened so fast, for you just like for us. But I’m sure that in the end, everything will be just fine, and you will have the opportunity to become exactly what you want to be ».  
Nagisa teared his gaze away, and said with a soft voice « I’m already unsure of what I am, anyway… »  
_But quickly, the shadow covering his face slipped into a smile as Hiromi came back and opened the door._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go for the second part ! I hope you liked it. Don't hesitate to correct me if I did any mistake.  
> It's a bit longer than the one before, I hope that even though it's short and has a lot of analysis, that kind of format isn't too boring to read.  
> Thanks to everyone who read and the ones who left kudos ! I'm so happy when I see someone appreciated my work, it really can make up any bad day.


	3. Hiromi

Hiromi Shiota was on the verge of losing control.

She had been stupid to believe that things would be fixed that easily. As if pretty words and good wishes were enough to have everything miraculously right in this broken family! She had overestimated herself. She had always believed that she was doing what was needed to be done for Nagisa’s future, she had thought she was guiding him and keeping him on the right way, ignoring the little voice at the back of her head saying that, sometimes, it wasn’t him but the child she had once been she was seeing on his face. When Nagisa had threatened her to get away from her forever, she had realized the difference between them, and the strength that loved inside of her son, far beyond her own. She had made a promise to herself that she would not anymore impose on him a future that wasn’t the one he desired.

Easier said than done.

Hiromi had such an ideal, a precise vision of perfection she wanted to introduce into her life, that it was very hard for her to drop the control he had maintain on Nagisa for years. When he obtained his diploma and they were finally all three together, finally reunited, she had been able to touch that ideal with the tip of her finger. Unhappily, ideals are hard to maintain.

She had seen since a while that her son wasn’t the same. He had always been a discrete boy, but she had noticed something about him was different. That silence she had taken for a long time for some kind of consent was in fact a strategy for the boy to minimize any pain by avoiding to upset his mother. His silence though was a lot more terrifying now that she realized she could read its meaning.

She was scared shed lose control again. With her work and Nagisa going to class, she had some kind of distraction. Even better, this year had been the beginning of an understanding, their dynamic had changed to develop into something more peaceful. It wasn’t rare anymore for her to come home and see the table was already set, or that the dishes had been cleaned. The small attempts from her son to help her in their daily lives had helped her to calm down her anguish toward future, and in her efforts to let her son become what he wanted to become, even if she was terrified at the idea that his choice may lead him to failure, just like she had failed.

Now, their newly established dynamic had been shook by the return of her husband, and the mysterious events that happened in her son’s classroom, that she was having a hard time understanding the extent and nature.

All she managed to think she understood, was that Nagisa’s teacher, that the media kept blaming, was maybe not as evil as he appeared to be.

If before she had a hard time giving Nagisa more freedom, the fact that she could see him so reserved and that she was unable to understand why, it was making her crazy. She couldn’t control what she didn’t understood. She couldn’t suppress an enemy that was hiding.

There were times it was boiling inside of her, that need to grip her son by the shoulders and shake him until the missing pieces of the puzzle in her head were spit out. Those time where she was feeling the need to change Nagisa’s expression to make him have the happy face she wanted to see on him.

It didn’t matter if that face was fake, as long as she didn’t know it.

Every step her son was taking away from her though felt like another failure. She didn’t want her son to go. It was the worst thing he could ever do to her, yet, every day she felt like he was a little further away. Even more when he was with his father.

She was happy, obviously, to know that during all those years being separated, they had never stopped seeing each other. But to every demonstration of caring between the two, a jab of jealousy and irritation was stabbing at her stomach. Just like when Nagisa had refused to take her last name, hoping that one day they would be three again, or more recently when she had the feeling that Nagisa was teeming his father things he would never dare to tell her, and that she wouldn’t be able to understand.

They were both important, in her eyes, but she wanted to stay the center of their attention. She wanted to be the wife and the loved mother, and her mind couldn’t conceive that as much as she loved them both, they too had a heart with enough place for several persons.

Why did it ache so much when she had the sudden realization that she wasn’t indispensable? Why did she need their dependence, on every aspect of their existences?

She was spending nights trying to control herself, repeating mantras while keeping her breathing in check, hoping that she wouldn’t have another crisis at the first occasion. She spent nights feeling guilty about everything she had made them suffer, and that she kept in total denial most of the time. She was remembering the feeling of power when she gripped Nagisa and stroke him, seeing him go back obediently to his place of nice little girl. She was remembering liking the frail stature, easy to manhandle to have the desired appearance. And those feelings that she buried deep inside of her most of the time still felt like nothing compared to the shame and self-disgust those nocturnal awareness were awakening in her.

She was scared shed go back to those old methods, now that she noted that her reunited family wasn’t as perfect as it should have been. She was scared it would start all over again, that she wouldn’t be able to control herself, that her husband would go away, and that Nagisa would fly even further. Maybe it’d be worse, since Nagisa had grew up. If they separated again, she was scared he could chose his father over her, and decided to abandon her for good, despite his promise.

Tonight, she can feel the tension in her member growing as she get closer to their apartment. She has a few intakes of breath, and count the stair to try to calm herself down. She had a particularly tough day, and she’s scared of what she may find if she enters. The scariest scenario would be that she found nobody once she opened the door. At her floor, she walks in the hallway leading home, and already feels a bit more relieved seeing that theirs is light filtering through the door.

She opens it, and seems to interrupt a discussion between Nagisa and his father. The first has his usual smile plastered on his face, and she wonders just how fake that smile actually is. All is needed to know it is to look at the worry in the eyes of the second.

She tries to ignore the emotions pulling up and threatening to explode in the open.

“Nagisa, would you set the table while I’m heating up dinner? Your mother is surely tired after such a long day working.”

Nagisa nods slightly after politely greeting his mother, and does what he’d been told. Her husband asks her to have seat while they take care of everything. Hiromi drops her things in their room and sit at the table, soon joined by her son and her husband.

“Ho was work today?” the voice of her husband pronounce words that were once told by her son. Back when Nagisa wasn’t for her a mute and unreadable body, that wasn’t reflecting what she wanted it to be. Back when Nagisa actually _cared_ about her.

She felt the need again to jump at her son’s throat. All dinner long, the mute silhouette of the teenager defy her, yet she’s unable to find a way to overcome it. She wants to ask him what is wrong, but she knows he wouldn’t answer. He’d never been taught to answer honestly to that question. She tightens her hands on her thigh to stop them from bury in the azure hairs of her son and force him to pay attention to them.

But at the moment she was about to yield, the voice of her husband over a casual question ground her, and she instinctively meet his pleading eyes.

There is still not that easiness in their exchanges she craves.

But happily there were times like what just happened. Times when as she goes to sleep, she can guess the shape of her husband in the dark room greeting her. Times where she guesses the apprehension coming from their mutual wishes to do well. She perceive the efforts put into recreating some kind of normal life, and the small talks her husband would start at the table to tear Nagisa away from his silence and create a familiar atmosphere.

Those were reasons enough she’d continue to try, and stop the violent crisis from ruining their lives.

All she wanted now, was that those common efforts would bring the real-life Nagisa closer to the smiling one she was nurturing in her head.

Maybe then, Nagisa wouldn’t want to go away anymore…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, this chapter ended up feeling a bit different compared to the others... Am I the only one feeling that way ?  
> Anyway, the end is coming soon ! I don't know if it will stay as a four chapter story as I thought, or if it will take a bit longer. I'll see how things develop once I'll start to write, but don't worry, I know how I want to end it.
> 
> Thank you for reading, hope you liked it !


	4. Blue Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the last chapter, but it was way too long compared to the previous chapters. So I splitted it in two, but anyway, the end is almost there.  
> Enjoy!

*

The gentle nips of the scissors were echoing through the bathroom’s walls. Softly, strands after strands of hair were falling on the carpet, soon covered by a fluffy blue. Nagisa’s work was slow and precise, as he observed attentively his highly contrasted reflection, due to his phone’s light.

It had been a while now that Mr. Koro was dead.

He couldn’t get away from the strange feelings that still linked him to that event. Repulsion, powerlessness, pain, we’re at least soothed a little during the daytime. He could be distracted by anything, even when he didn’t have the energy to get up from his bed or the couch he’d lost himself onto. The ray of sunshine lingering on the floor, the noises animating the street, or the sight of his father reading besides him, trying not to look too worried. If the pain or the guilt became too much, he could always discuss with his former classmates from the E-class online, and fill the lack they were all feeling now that they could barely exit their home.

But at night, nothing distracted him anymore. The darkness revived in him the sensations of his hands sinking the blade of his knife in his sensei’s yellow flesh. Or the one of his bloodlust he could barely control. Now that he had killed, would it be even stronger ? Will he be able to control it and lead the peaceful life he craved ? Even the nocturnal noises couldn’t tear him away from his morbid thoughts, and we’re only increasing his torments. It had been a long time, now, that Nagisa hadn’t slept at night.

Tonight wasn’t an exception. After spending hours shifting in his beds and the thought in his head in everyway without finding sleep, Nagisa had decided to get up and apply sole water on his face to cool down and clear his mind. He had taken his phone with him to lighten his way without turning on the corridor’s lights. Anyway, it had been a while now that he couldn’t stand his own reflection without wanting to hurt himself, and if he couldn’t avoid the large mirror above the sink at daytime, now he had the benefits of darkness.

But after he had cooled down, Nagisa made fall on the carpet the scissors his mother had broadly forgotten to tidy. Nagisa had looked by reflex the objects in its fall, and even as it reached the floor, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from it. The more he stared at them, the more he felt the urge to use them. Of possible, to hurt himself. The longest he stared, the more he wanted to take them ant sink their blades in his own skin, to experience what he had made Koro-sensei suffer.

Maybe even through death, the memory of their teacher still acted on them as a good star, because it wasn’t Nagisa’s pale skin that met the icy blades. Instead slipped between them a blue strand, ant it was with astonishment that Nagisa observed it fall graciously to the grpund, curling perfectly on the bathroom floor. Immediately it felt just like an addiction, an urging and insatiable need to see more strands falling. So Nagisa disposed his phone on the sink so that it lets him see what he was doing, and he started to minutely cut those hairs he had always hated the length.

As he was observing in the mirror the falling strands, the sentence Karma told him after their journey in space came back to his mind: “I wonder what he would’ve chosen, though”. Between life and death, which solution would have appealed the most to Koro-sensei? If right from the beginning of the year he had only incited them to kill him, was it only for commodities, or did he really wanted to be killed and not saved?

Did Koro-sensei had remorse for the crimes he committed in his life before, or had he considered himself as a different person as soon as he entered the laboratory and met Aguri?

Would Nagisa know how to become different, too?

When he will put down his scissors, it is that person he wanted to find. A different Nagisa, sure of what he wanted, and how to get it, without betraying his principles. He had to do something, even if it seems as harmless as cutting his hair. Koro-sensei’s death couldn’t be useless, even if it was hard.

His mother would never forgive him, for sure…

Nagisa contemplated in the mirror his now finished work. His hair, that were before falling over his shoulders, were now standing out haphazardly in short strands. He still had his fringe and the longest strands framing his face, so that he still recognized himself. He didn’t want to make of the future Nagisa a total stranger. Thunderstrucked, he ran his fingers through his hair, which quickly met the void where they used to met hair. He admired the sudden and the irreversible dimension of what he had just done.

His head was a lot lighter without all that blue weight.

He smiled to his reflection, before he cleaned up a bit the damages he caused. It felt weird to gather in his hands all of those dead hairs. He hurried to throw them to the bin so that he didn’t think about it anymore, and got back to sleep.

The day after though, anguish hit him hard.

As he woke up, his hands ran over his face by pure habitude to swipe away the strands that were usually there. When they only met air and skin, the memory of last night awoke in him conflicted feelings. The alleviation and the feeling of power and control over his own life faded now in a devouring worry. How is he going to hide it from his mother now? And, since this previous question couldn’t be answered, how is she going to react?

 _Badly_ , thought Nagisa. _She’ll never forgive me._

He hadn’t thought about it at all yesterday evening. He didn’t meant to defy her when he had cut his hair. To be honest, he wasn’t really sure of the reason why he cut his hair. He just wanted to do it.

 _It cannot be that terrible_ , Nagisa tried to reassure himself. _It’s only hair, after all. After everything that had happened this year, it didn’t matter, did it?_

He could hear in the living room the noise of the dishes being set on the table. He could wait for his mother to go to work, couldn’t he? No, anyway, he couldn’t avoid her for eternity. The more he would wait, the more he would be scared. Nagisa then gathered all of his courage, avoided any reflecting surface that could shattered it, and opened the door of his room.

_Despite all of his efforts, he could stop the slight trembling that were running through his members._


	5. The Final Boss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end ! I hope you liked it. Thanks to everyone who read and left kudos, it really fills me with joy, you have no ideas!

He couldn’t stop himself from trembling.

Happily, Hiromi was cooking breakfast, her back to him.

Him, who had faced assassins, who had won over a psychopath, who had killed Koro-sensei by his own hands…

… Was yet unable to face his mother.

If he was the New Game Plus mode of his mother’s RPG, she, without a doubt, was his final boss. Could he bear once more the disappointment on her face? Would he find there the hatred?

He didn’t had any more time to think, because his father choose what was without a doubt the worst possible moment to express himself, him who usually almost never talked: “Nagisa ? Huh, it’s nice what you did to your hair. It changes!”

The U-turn his mother made would almost have been comical, in other circumstances. But when he saw the distrustful eyes that his mother posed on him turn to disgust, he had for a rare time the wish to be way smaller than he already was. He looked down, unable to bear her gaze. He saw her mother’s fist clench on the handle of the spoon as she tried not to make a scene, and Nagisa had the impression to see a sharpened knife in her hands. _A knife, okay, I can handle that._ He waited for the screams, maybe the blows, prepared.

Nothing came.

He looked up to his mother that had now sit with his father at the breakfast’s table, in silence. Nagisa sat facing them and started to eat carefully, baffled. He observed one by one his parents, his father showed an edgy smile, and his mother who sat straight across him ignored him completely. Since he didn’t know what to do, he fixed his gaze upon his mother and observed her every movement, trying to perceive what she was thinking about him and the whole situation. What she expected of him. Or what would be her reaction.

After a long time, Hiromi looked up and stared at him with such an icy glare that Nagisa could actually feel his blood freeze in his veins. She stood up without breaking the gaze, and declared: “I actually thought we had somewhat of an agreement… Leave to ruin all of my expectations, you could have done it properly.”

She took a strand of short hair that stood out between her fingers, maybe pulled it a little harder than necessary to support her words. “Look at yourself, you look a mess”.

Then she let him go and put back her mask of icy indifference. Nagisa breathed out the air he hadn’t know he was keeping in. He could feel still the grip of his mother in his hair, where were before his pigtails. Progressively, it felt like his whole scalp was burning. He frenetically ran his hands through his short hair and pulled on them to try to make them grow again, like he used to do on his feet to gain some centimeters when he was younger.

Hiromi left the apartment to go to work, without a look for him.

Hr finished his breakfast in a rush and hid on the bathroom, despite his father’s calls. The light that filtered through the window lighten a bit too well his scattered hair. In the day light, he could see all the irregularities, the length differences, the rebel strands that he had absolutely not seen at night. He saw his puffy face and red eyes that contain tears he refused to shed. And he could follow the abnormally curvy shape of his body. He was disappointed by his reflection. It didn’t look like how he had imagined himself. Actually, he looked stupid.

No wonder his mother had been so disappointed.

He didn’t know how to behave in a family context. How ironic… He had learnt thanks to Koro-sensei to not be ashamed of who he was, to observe deeply his strengths and witnesses and then had learnt how to use them in the best possible way, daily. He had been confident and sure of his convictions, even though he had stayed observer and distant. When he was at home, all of these were very different, because he had the feeling that who he was deeply entered in contradiction with the role of son that had been taught to him.

Just like the assassination of Koro-sensei, he had to deal with two ideals that mattered to him but were conflicted.

Somehow, he believed he had made his grief when cut his hair. He wanted them to stay that way, now that he was thinking about it. In his shirt hairs were everything Koro-sensei had taught him, the wish to have control in his life, and a constant reminder of what he had done in March. Even though it hurt, he couldn’t pretend he was the same after he had killed. The question was not anymore about whether what he had done was fair or not, he had done it anyway, and as everything this act had left a deep impact within him, which would probably reverberate upon the rest of his life, just as ricochets. It was a marking moment in his life, and Nagisa wanted to be able to remember it at any time.

How could he explain to his mother that it wasn’t for provocation? Nor a wish to break his promise to stay with her until he’s fully grown?

In the living room, the father was waiting for the bathroom’s door to open. He had the strange feeling he was years back, when after he had been the witness of an umpteenth scene of violence and found no solution nor help from the judges to keep his child, he had to leave his family. The years that followed had been the saddest of his life, he didn’t want to live them again. He didn’t’ want to give up so soon after he had found his family back.

_We are going to be fine. We’re going to be fine, right? Tons of families live with one another every day, why wouldn’t we be able to do it?_

The night before, they had discussed with Hiromi. She started slowly to envision to seek some help, for her own and their well-being. He had promised he’d try to speak with Nagisa, and help them to recreate a link of trust between him and his mother. How would he do that, if Hiromi was mad at Nagisa? She would probably go back on her decision, and continue to struggle by herself, without any medical help. Maybe she would even refuse for them three to stay living together. What if she forced Nagisa to go away with her, far away from him? What if he lost them both, a second time?

He rubbed his hands together. It wasn’t easy to adjust yourself to the others. It wasn’t easy to tame your deep nature. Even when you knew yourself well, it was hard to keep having enough retreat to at the right way.

Him, for example, had the tendency to think too much, and as everything seemed too complicated for him, he ended doing nothing, fearing he’d make the wrong choice.

However, when after what felt like an eternity, Nagisa finally opened the door, the father couldn’t hold back from rushing towards him and hug him. Nagisa didn’t really know what to do, so he let his arms hang by his sides and tried to understand what was happening. It was rare for his father to express so openly what he felt, and Nagisa didn’t know what to do with all of that vulnerability. But inexplicably, he felt an immense comfort, when his father fondly stroked his short hair, when they were the cause of their first hassle since they were living all there together.

“It doesn’t matter you know. She’s going to calm down. It’s only hairs, anyway.”

Nagisa rolled his eyes.

“It’s not really her kind, to calm down. She will come back to this another day, when she’ll want me to feel guilty, or to demean me. She’ll use it, or any other of my failures.”

Nagisa escaped from his father’s hold intending to go to his room, but his father held him back by the wrist. “Nagisa. You’re not the only one trying to change. We are all making efforts. We are trying, even your mother… I know it’s hard to believe, sometimes, but you know she loves you. She’s scared you’ll leave, even more now because there is a big part of your life we are not allowed to know. She’s scared of the day you’ll be independent and won’t need her anymore.

_No, she’s scared that she won’t be able to project on me her own aspirations. I don’t _want_ to disappoint her, you know, I just want to live the life that is mine. Is it that hard to comprehend? I don’t want to be anybody’s puppet anymore.”

The father had the intuition it exceeded his mother’s case. In his memory, Nagisa had never ever talked that way. He let his son’s wrist go to give him some space. Nagisa took a deep breath, forced a smile, a bit too edgy.

“It’s okay. I suppose I’ll just wait until I’m grown enough.”

His father let him go back to his room, and promised himself, he’s talk to Hiromi when she’ll be back. He won’t let her get near Nagisa without being absolutely certain she’d keep the control of herself.

Nagisa waited with apprehension for his mother to come back. He had earlier sent a text to Karma, to ask him about his opinion upon Koro-sensei’s death. Nagisa hated to expose his problems to others, but this was different. Karma was by far the cleverest student in the E-Class, and his opinion mattered a lot to Nagisa. Anyway, even if he wouldn’t admit it, he needed someone to reassure him about the justice of his murder. He didn’t want empty word or fake comfort. He wanted someone to lean on when the guilt was too strong, and would less judge him than he already judged himself. He was seeking with Karma the approbation and support he didn’t find in his parents. They were all a bit alone, without Koro-sensei, prisoners of a secret they couldn’t share with anyone. Thinking about Karma and Koro-sensei distracted him from his mother that would be home soon.

Karma was taking too long to answer, and Nagisa’s nervousness threatened to choke him. A light knock on the door, and Nagisa was surprised to discover his mother in the doorway. Hiromi stood very straight with a stern look, and behind her shoulder he saw his father giving him a reassuring smile. Nagisa sat up on his bed to show his mother he was listening, the bubble of anxiety in his throat stopped him from talking.

Hiromi adjusted her clothes in a nervous gesture and sighed deeply. She seemed to stiffen all of her muscles, as if to hold herself back, but the tone of her voice was perfectly controlled when she started to talk softly: “Since we cannot go back, what if we tried to fix all of this a bit?” Nagisa looked with surprise at the thin scissors his mother waved in front of her. It was the scissors he had used to cut his hair. Some rests of blue strands were still hanging from it. He nodded and followed his parents, phone in his hands in case Karma decided to answer him.

Hiromi made him sit on a chair in the kitchen, and his father sitted across them pretending to read the newspaper. Nagisa heard his mother behind him take a deep breath, as if she was scared to start. She ran soothingly her fingers in her son’s hair, mentally grieving their ancient length, before she took between her fingers a strand that was way too long compared to its neighbors. The soft nip of the scissors echoed once again, and a sense of peace settled in the little room.

  
Nagisa felt in his hand that his phone had vibrated, but he didn’t look at it right away, fearing he would break the sweetness of the moment. The sweetness to know that everything would be alright.

Briefly, he thought he heard in the far away evening the strange and unmistakable laugh of their beloved teacher.

_The End._


End file.
